


O Tempora, O Mores

by Arithanas



Category: Tom of Finland - Kake
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst over cheating, Anonymous Sex, Blow Jobs, Consensual Non-Consent, M/M, Non-monogamous Relationship, Orgy, Same-Sex Marriage, Sex Work, Slice of Life, Yuleporn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-09 01:14:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5519987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arithanas/pseuds/Arithanas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Well, it is 2015. Does anyone else wonder how Kake would behave in this day and age? </p><p>Wonder no more!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Porn Industry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mithrigil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithrigil/gifts).



> Thanks to all yulechatters for the encouragement and the help to get some facts straight. Thanks to L. for the heroic beta in the very nick of time.

Kake, dressed in jeans, white t-shirt, leather jacket and flat cap walked inside a firehouse. He turned his head every so often. His hands resettled the enormous package before he hooked the thumbs in the studded belt around his narrow and muscular waist. He crouched next to a toolbox and rummaged the contents. A figure, clad in protective gear, approached by his right, followed by another three.

“Hey!”

The cry alerted Kake too late and the first figure caught him by the arm. Kake struggled to escape the grip, grappling with the man's hands, but he was soon forced to let go as another of the fireman came to assist his friend. Both men hurried to pull Kake’s arms apart. All the contours of Kake’s chest were highlighted by the harsh lights of the firehouse; his nipples were visibly stiff under the flimsy fabric of his white t-shirt.

“We caught a thief!”

“I just wanted a wrench to fix my bike!” Kake protested. His glorious moustache twitched in rage.

“You could have asked for it instead of touching our stuff,” A big man with graying hair and a helmet labeled CAPTAIN said while touching Kake’s stuff with rough hands. “Now, we are going to teach you a lesson.”

Kake’s shirt was torn from his body like it was flimsy paper. One of the firemen was helping their Captain to strip Kake’s pants but the owner was fighting with all his might to escape the certainly unpleasant fate that waited for him. In an effort to control his violent movements one of the firefighters cupped Kake’s balls as a warning and, when that warning went unheeded, he closed his fist.

“Hey,” one of the firemen tossed his helmet to reveal his bald head and his shiny golden earrings.

“’sup?”

“There,” the bald fireman tossed a bag filled with black zip ties to his colleague.

The Captain signaled the firepole. “Let him hug our faithful Tom.”

The firemen carried Kake to the sliding pole; the firemen let their eager hands roam and grab any part that could serve as a handle. Soon, Kake, his jeans half down, was forced to kneel in front of the pole, and his hands were fastened with tight zip ties. The studded belt was removed from the loops by the Captain. One of the firemen took Kake’s cock and made him present his ass for the strapping.

At that precise moment “Take me to church” sounded loudly in the set and all the eyes converged on the tied figure. Only Kake could have the gall to use that horrible indie-pop song as a ringtone.

“Untie me!” Kake demanded but he was grinning widely. “I really need to take that call!”

A resentful groan was uttered by the cast and the crew, but the safety scissors were brought and the zip tie was cut. The star of the film needed to attend his call. Kake pulled up his jeans only because he didn’t want to delay the filming session even more. He picked up a gym bag and whipped out his smartphone. The fluff crew rushed to keep the actors ready to continue the scene.

The break lasted less than two minutes but upon his return, Kake had to face the director of the porn flick he had interrupted. His adorable and mustached smile didn’t grant him any favors.

“I don’t care if your name is the one who made this possible.” The porn director, a chubby and short man in a suit, was as serious as a mortician. “Another interruption in that sort and I take you out.”

Kake nodded completely grave, but being scolded like a kid, with his junk hanging in front of his pants while five adult entertainers were getting blowjobs, made it pretty difficult.

“Understood,” Kake said and presented his switched-off phone.

The director extended his hand and Kake handed the device over.

“Once again! Everybody get ready!”

Kake returned to the pole and bent at the waist in his spot, extending his hands.

“Any news?” Leon, the bald fireman with earrings asked, fastening Kake to the pole again. He made sure Kake had enough room to struggle. Leon and he had been in different flicks together over the years. He was the closes to a friend he had there.

Kake bit his lips and nodded. It was difficult to have a conversation while three fluffers did their best to raise Kake’s waning erection with their and mouths.

“I want the name of whoever has his fingers up my ass…” Kake muttered and bent his knees to grant better access to the caress. 

“Soon you will have the fists of half the cast there and you want the name of the fluff boy.”

“Hey, this fluff boy knows what he’s doing!”

To highlight his approval shook his ass in front of the fluffer’s face. The entire cast snickered wholeheartedly at the fluffer’s appalled expression. Clearly, his job sucked.

“Silence!” the beleaguered director called. All the actors had the good sense to show regret. “Kake, on your knees!”

“I’ll tell you all once we finish this scene,” Kake promised and knelt down; his gorgeous cock, hard as a horn, was pointing to the ceiling.

“Scene 8, C, take 2!” the announcer called holding a slate board with ‘Liar, liar, ass on fire!’ jotted across.

***

After four intense hours of shooting and a delightful half hour of advertising photo shoots, the actors finally were sent home. 

Most of them packed their things and went to the usual bar, but Kake, after he recovered his phone from the Director’s hands, took a shower to wash off the several liquids spilled over him during the shooting. Kake knew he couldn’t arrive sticky to his second job.

Kake was surprised to meet Leon when he left the shower. More frequently than not, Leon fled the scene at the earliest opportunity, but today he was still gathering his toys and lube. Absentmindedly, Kake fist-bumped him while passing by.

“So, everything is in good order?”

“Of course, better than ever. In fact, we are going to Europe this summer.”

“Mykonos?”

“Stockholm.”

“Good,” Leon offered Kake another fist bump and added, “send my regards to the missus!”

Kake flipped him off, but he was smiling.

Kake dressed and trimmed his mustache again. Only one detail was missing before he was ready to go. From his gym bag, Kake recovered a collar made with a leather strap and a platinum and onyx ring. He took good care to hold the pendant in the front of his shirt. “PUNK” could be read inside, right next the thief knot, and Kake kissed the ring before letting it fall on his chest.

Time to make ends meet.


	2. Multimedia

The studio was cold, and the artist wouldn’t bother to change the track of his Ipad. That was the third time Kake was listening to the same conceptual jazz piece since the session started.

The artist in question was a middle aged man, thin as a twig, with sparse clumps of white hair he didn’t even bother to comb. Kake was a frequent model for his works, which were printed in at least three different countries. He was an eccentric man, but very professional.

Kake nude, on his knees, with a banana stuffed in his mouth, was fighting the need of stir after an hour of modeling. This kind of job didn’t demand the same set of skills the dirty flicks did, but the artist paid him well and in advance to have him modeling for sketches, and deserved a professional service. His only complaint was boredom, and itches he couldn't scratch. For that very reason, Kake had developed the capacity to zone out and let his mind wanders to more enjoyable things.

“Don’t move!”

That was the fourth warning since they changed the pose. Kake spied the artist with the corner of his eye. How curious, the artist was right handed and his right hand was over the easel; there was no sign of his left hand.

Kake spat the banana.

“Moving, my ass…”

Kake was not above giving a good sex show, but the rate was different and he wasn’t going to let this old geezer take advantage of him. In a couple of strides, Kake reached the easel and moved it aside. The artist was surprised, and his right hand made a long black charcoal line over the sketch. Kake opened his mouth, and words refused to come out.

Between the artist legs was a cock that didn’t match Kake expectations. In fact, it wrecked such expectation and turned them to dust. It it wasn't at last fourteen inches, Kake was a choirboy.

“I…”

The artist tried to speak, to give a reason for his unprofessional action. But Kake covered his mouth with one hand, reaching for that gorgeous cock with the other. He could barely encircle its girth - it was just what he needed after shooting porn all morning.

“You and I,” Kake explained with a sensible yet warm voice, “we are going to fuck right now. Any complains?”

The artist shook his head in disbelief.

Kake smiled and went to his gym bag to retrieve lube and condoms. Tools of the trade in hand, Kake had a different idea and took his phone too. He knew someone who would appreciate a good show, and this man owed him something.

“Do you mind?” Kake asked, preparing the phone.

The artist, in anxious expectation, shook his head, waiting to feel Kake’s touch again.

Kake, without any hurry, tore open the package and took the condom out. Rolling it over the big piece of meat was a piece of cake, and soon his hand was giving a good coat of lube to the rubbery surface. The entire operation was captured in video and soon, Kake, his back turned to the artist, was struggling to get the head inside his still tender ass. The artist, gasping for air, put his hands on Kake’s hip to encourage him.

The camera kept registering every detail, even the way Kake arched his back in celebration when the whole pole disappear inside him.


	3. Selfies and Grindr

Still dazed by how awesome that fat cock had felt inside him, Kake took his plastic TAP card from his wallet and loitered at the bus stop. His phone vibrated against his butt and Kake smiled in anticipation. Vicky had loved the gizmo since he’d opened his shop, and the continual stream of selfies was a vampire set to consume Kake’s phone memory. The phone was attended and Kake fitted his cap while studying the image.

The soft curve of an ass, and the hairy top of a powerful thigh were the subject. Kake knew that sight: there were mornings he spent in silent contemplation of that very part of Vicky. The banana hammock, however, was new and Kake appreciated how well red suited his pale skin. The ‘Wanna tap this?’ was a bit too much, but Kake grinned nonetheless.

“Cheeky punk,” Kake grunted and proceeded to message, in graphic detail, what he would do with that ass as soon as he could put his hands, among other things, on it.

By the time Kake had sent the message, the bus had arrived. After the climb was done, the fare subtracted from the plastic card, and the seat by the window was occupied. Kake noticed the selfie had helped him forget he wasn't riding his classical motorcycle. A cracked cylinder head, again.

Before his mood could sour more, Kake opened Grindr and started to sort his messages. He kept his own account since it was good for business. Fans of his work always wanted to chat and make awkward propositions over Grindr’s chat. Most of the time they were hilariously funny; other times they were outright pathetic. In any case, Grindr was a good way to waste time.

Kake toyed with the end of his mustache. He had answered some gushing fan comments and now he was appraising some dick pics, wondering why they called those poorly planned shots “tribute”. A new message chimed in and he braced for an over-eager chat with someone barely of age who had just become fixated on him. Kake was getting surprisingly at ease with that scenario.

‘Hello from five rows behind,” said the message.

Kake felt his eyebrows rising. He checked the profile. Nice Latino boy, no ‘no fems’ nonsense.

‘Hello, you’

‘So, you an actor?’

‘yup’

‘gay PORN actor?’

This was the first time someone doubted his profile description. Especially after they had seen the shot Vicky had taken of his cock in all its glorious magnitude. The very same photo that adorned in his profile.

‘Yes’, Kake rolled his eyes.

‘For reals?’

‘Yes, I even get paid for it.’

‘Nice cock.’

Before Kake could add a thank you message, another question came: ‘Wanna have it sucked,  _ papi _ ?’

Kake put down his phone and looked through the window. No, this kind of propositions, readily available, were not a daily occurrence.

‘you clean?’

‘As far as I know. So, y/n?’

‘Next stop is my stop.’ Kake finally wrote. ‘I know a place.’

‘Ok.’

Then, frantically, Kake hurried to send a message to Vicky, explaining him the situation, and asking for his agreement. Vicky came from the same place as Kake. Sons of narrow-minded immigrant parents and porn actors by vocation; Vicky understood Kake’s high drive. He didn’t expect to be Kake’s only one, he expected to be Kake’s main squeeze.

“Come on, Vicky,” Kake muttered, recovering his gym bag from between his legs. “Say yes or say no, but say it soon…”

As he walked his way to the exit, Kake kept his eyes peeled. There he was, clad in jeans, t-shirt sticking to his young and brawny chest; nice plump lips. The sassy bastard winked at him. Kake imagined those lips around his cock and erection was automatic.

Kake was more than ready. That damned Latino had put him in high gear and he needed to fuck him until slobber dried on his fat lips, but the phone was silent. Kake mustered his patience. Maybe Vicky was closing the shop. Maybe he was otherwise engaged.

Kake came down the bus and the Latino man behind him. Kake made him a sign for him to follow and the man heeded it, but made no attempt to make short talk. That was good. Kake was guiding him to Vicky’s shop.

Vicky used to shoot dirty flicks too, under the name of Mike, but some years ago a nasty discussion on the set soured the whole experience for him. Now, he worked in a different branch of the industry: somehow a Sex Shop seemed right for an ex-porn star. Vicky had a good head for knowing what his clients wanted and enough contacts from his porn experience to know where he could get good supplies; business bloomed under his care.

“Reply, dammit!”

Kake took the key ring from the chain and fidgeted with the set. Of course he knew which was the alley key―the one with the round head—but the message had still not arrived. The Latino man was busy perusing the shop window but soon he turned to Kake as if asking if he needed help and there was no choice but to open the door and hang the lock from the strap of his gym bag.

They walked down the narrow alley that was mostly used for deliveries; Kake’s shoulders were scraping the walls. Once they reached the back store the automated lamp bathed them with its dirty yellow light. Kake had a reason for taking this man to his husband’s turf; over their heads the dark cover of a surveillance camera watched them. Any way this encounter might develop, there would be a witness.

“Come on, man,” the Latino man spoke for the first time, his voice was slightly high.

The Latino man tried to get rid of Kake’s jeans in a very clumsy manner, but Kake pushed him away. Kake might be in his mid-twenties, but he was he was not an easily intimidated novice. Also, he had made enough movies to act the part.

“Hands off,” Kake felt his voice changing and, suddenly, he felt powerful and invincible.

“Aw, man...”

“You want this?” Kake put his hand around his junk. The bulk was getting uncomfortable because power always gave him such a rush.

“Oh, yes,  _ papi _ …”

“On your knees!”

Amusingly, the same man who was ready to assault him was now eager to obey. The man knelt in the dirty alley and watched at Kake with a hungry stare. Kake, slowly, methodically, as he had rehearsed a million times on the set, undid his fly and folded his waistband out; his junk expanded in a calculated fashion, Kake’s bald balls hung outside his insignificant undies and his fat, gorgeous hard-on was exposed to the unforgiving light of the back alley.

“Oh man, that wasn’t a trick shot!”

Kake smiled a cruel grin as the man’s eyes keep staring the glorious example of manhood, his lips trembling and drool started to gather in the corner of his mouth. Kake started to fear he wouldn’t get Vicky’s reply on time.

“Don’t move,” Kake warned and started polishing his wood in front of the man. “If you move, I’ll pack it.”

The warning kept the man at bay for the moment. Kake picked up the gym bag and took one of the travel-sized bottles of lube and one of the condoms he always snatched from the sets and poured a good amount on his cock. At the very least, Kake thought, he would have a good jerk off. The Latino man’s eyed the fist as he went up and down the pole with increasing speed.

After a couple of minutes, Kake had to stop; his mind was wandering to Vicky’s bum and Vicky’s lips and Vicky’s hole and that was a sure way to cover the eager man who was panting in his knees with spunk.

“I don’t know where you have been,” Kake said, tearing the condom wrap with care.

“Nor I know you,  _ papi _ , but wrap it good and give it to me…”

That was the problem, but Kake made no comment as he rolled down the thin layer of latex over his uncut dick. The condom was so tightly and snuggly fit that the cock seemed vacuum-packed.

“Come here,” Kake said with a husky tone that was completely studied. Part of his mind ready to do the deed, the other part was cursing Vicky for parting from his beloved phone just that night.

At that moment, he felt the vibration against his right buttcheck and Kake felt the powerful wave of relief as he retrieved his phone from the folded jeans.

“Wait!” Kake barked, opening the message in a hurry.

In the screen Kake could read ‘Go for it! :|b:|b:|b’ and while he was reading it, another one came: ‘< 3’. Damned be Vicky and even more his emoticons.

“Ok, we can give it a go.”

“What’s so important?”

Kake resisted the urge to slap the punk with his cock for asking nosey questions. To explain this completely random nobody that he was horrified because he almost cheated his loving husband in the heat of the moment would be the boner-killer of the decade. Instead, Kake put his fists on his hip and craned over the kneeling man.

“Do you want to suck it or not?”

“Geez, you are lucky to be so hung…”

Without another comment the Latino man closed his mouth around Kake’s massive glans and started to suck wetly. Soon, Kake felt his knees weaken; of course this man would offer the best of his abilities.

As the expert cocksucker did his business, Kake put the ring between his teeth, raised his phone and took a selfie.


	4. Open Relationships

The annoying noise of  _ The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills _ died down as soon as the door was open and a cheerful voice issued the habitual greeting.

“Hey, fucker!”

The greeting lifted Kake’s spirits. He loved Vicky, even if he had to endure his awful taste in entertainment.

“Are you home, asshole?” Kake put his flat cap on the little table by the door. The gym bag was promptly kicked under the same.

“Yup. Bike’s in the shop and dinner’s ready, in case you care.”

“Fuck dinner!” Kake yelled and put his letter jacket inside the closet.

The laugh followed Kake as he entered the small apartment. The deep sound lifted the burden of the day's annoyances from Kake's shoulders.

Beyond the couch, their big, rigged bed, with dark sheets never seemed so inviting. In others times, he would have shuffled over to to it and flopped onto the mattress, but today he had a wonderful man in his life and regret from his flirtation with infidelity made him edgy and remorseful. He almost cheated on a man who could cook, by the smell of it, a damned good stew.

“Fuck me, then, you cranky bastard,” Vicky invited; he was still sitting on the couch, and opened his arms to properly welcome him home.

Kake sat by his husband’s side and buried his face in the deep V-line t-shirt. Vicky’s strong arm surrounded him and the studded wristband’s caressed Kake’s tired and knotted neck as his hands rushed to the crown full of dark hair. Vicky petted Kake in short strokes, the rings in his wristbands making a faint tinkling sound. Kake closed his eyes and melted in the welcomed warmth, drinking in Vicky’s musky fragrance. For a moment his mind wandered on the smell under that dark t-shirt: Welcome home cuddles were always the best.

“Got your selfie.”

“That was the least I could do.” Kake raised his eyes to meet Vicky’s. “I almost didn’t wait for your consent, though.”

“Color me surprised.”

“It didn’t end well.” 

“How so?” Vicky tilted his head with genuine curiosity.

“Marriage didn’t suit him. At least, he didn’t like mine.”

“It is right in the profile!”

“Go figure.”

Another burst of laughter cleared the remnants of Kake’s guilt. Clearly, he hit the jackpot when he found Vicky.

“Kiss me now,” Vicky demanded scooting his jean-clad ass on the couch to cuddle better, “and confess all the mischief you have been doing today.”

Kake obeyed, passing his thumbs over Vicky fine mustache first. He enjoyed how Vicky’s smooth lips caressed his and how his tongue darted inside Kake’s warm mouth. Kake wondered if toothpaste or chewing gum were to blame for the lingering taste of peppermint on his husband’s mouth.

“I have something better for you,” Kake said when they broke their kiss and got up a moment to retrieve his phone from his back pocket. “Spit what the doctor said, first.”

“He said you shouldn’t put me in stress bondage for a month, but shoulder is healing nicely. I won’t mind it if you rub it before we hit the hay.” Vicky set comfortably on the couch, with a cushion in the small of his back, and his left leg extended over the length of the couch. “Show me. Did you take pictures of the set?”

“You’ll have to wait for the DVD release, you greedy punk,” Kake said, sitting between Vicky’s legs with a sigh.

Vicky shrugged. “I’ll find it on the porn sites first.”

“Pay for your porn, jerk.”

“Why? I can see your ass stuffed with cock here at home.”

“Not today,” Kake laid his weight on Vicky’s broad chest. “My ass took a pounding today. I let the artist fuck me.”

“Eh? I thought you wanted to fuck him!” Vicky’s surprise was evident, but that didn’t stop him from hugging Kake’s thigh with his leg. “Or, at least, that was what you told me when you asked for my say-so.”

“He’s a grower.” Kake explained and started to sort the videos in his gallery.

“No way!”

“Beer can wide, too.” Kake turned his cellphone to the side. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me so I took video.”

Vicky kissed Kake’s crown and let his left hand cup Kake’s junk. “You surely know how to spoil me.”

Kake grunted appreciatively at the touch and pushed the play icon. 

**Author's Note:**

> The first time I met Mike, his name was Vicky. He was the hero who has sexcapades on phone booths and movie theaters, the same man who went to a shop for jeans and got a bit more. 
> 
> Every time I thought "Mike" ended up typing "Vicky", some habits are hard to kick out.


End file.
